They’re back!!!!!
Welcome back all you students of higher learning! This is an exciting time of year for us crumbling curmudgeons, when we must watch more carefully for speeding cars, vomit puddles and brawling morons, not to mention the latest fashions from whiteland suburbia to hit the streets (see: whatever MTV hip-hop stars wore yesterday). But, for real dough, it’s glad to have you back. I may poke fun at your fraternities and your homogenized ways, but we all know that’s just because of jealousy.

Back in the ‘40s, I was expelled from my fraternity, Mu Mu Pie, for not having enough family money to buy an instant crowd of friends, and the experience has scarred me ever since. Having to meet an interesting and eclectic array of people on my own was terrible.

As my friend and fellow whack job Señor Cranky says, there once was a time when fraternities had something to do with dignity and honor, the “way things were before the doughboy parade of hooting morons falling out of windows so bloated with tequila that they hit the ground like liquor-filled balloons.” Yes, honor and dignity went out the windows when the latest generation of little high schoolers saw Animal House for the first time and devoted their lives to becoming Bluto—the expelled drunk who gets the girl and becomes U.S. senator in the end (we all know that guy).

But who am I to discourage partying? I’m glad you guys and gals are back. Things will liven up around here. Just keep your vomit to yourself (see, swallow it with your Lemonade hangman’s, Zima Ices or whatever), and when you feel the testosterone swelling in your nuts like a monkey, find a parked car somewhere, sit it in and beat yourself in the face. The rest of us don’t need the public distraction.

Whirlwind tour
I just flew 3000 miles after a Greek Orthodox weekend wedding in Richmond, Va., so I’m a little spent, but next week I will return to my usual duty here: for those who don’t know, trying to make people laugh by writing mock-Onion-esque headlines about whatever B.S. national media trends are fixating our national public. That is, if I don’t go back to Virginia to marry an heiress to the Duke Tobacco throne who hit on me at the reception. If I suddenly become worth $400 million, may God help you all.

Weekly props
1. Virginia is for lovers
2. Motorhead in Chico (Brickworks)
3. Krispy Kreme narcotic glaze
4. Bob Dylan’s new album
5. Robots hate Cowboys
6. Patch Adams has a posse